


Fields of Blue

by bluphacelia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Exciled Prince - Prince Lotor Zine, M/M, Mermaid - Lotor, Merpeople, Minor Injuries, Shipwrecks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluphacelia/pseuds/bluphacelia
Summary: Lotor finds himself shipwrecked on an island. Dazed and confused he looks up to find brilliant blue eyes and a helping hand.





	Fields of Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Exiled Prince Zine - A Prince Lotor centric zine.

It's hard to breathe. Waves slosh up against his skin. Up and down. Up and down his body. It becomes his whole world. Existence, as he feels the cold embrace come closer and closer.

He tried to struggle when he first woke, but there was something tangled around him, tight and constricting. It pulled everything close, rubbing against his skin and leaving only one arm free to uselessly fight the wreckage that would become his end.

He stopped trying hours ago. 

He turns his head slightly into the air. The sand is rough against his cheek as he peers up at the single shaft of light. He dreads the moment it'll be snatched away from him again. The waves lap at his chin. He looks up again. There are no more tears left in him.

He must have dozed, head fallen onto the sand. His world moves. "There's someone under here!" a clear voice calls out. His eyes are gummy and swollen, his skin dry and prickly as he shifts.

The stars are the first he sees, followed by the light of the moon, a fire painting silver streaks across the face of his savior.

"Please," he tries, but it comes out as a wheeze, a cough. 

Dark eyes widen and the large plank pinning him down slowly shifts to the side with a crash. The man and the mer look at each other, wide eyed with wonder that’s painted with underlying fear.

"Shh, there," the voice is back, soothing like the waves lapping around his tail. "You're going to be okay, yeah?"

There's a glint of something in his hand and the mer recoils, or tries to. The netting pulls tight around him, piercing pain flaring against his skin, snagging against his fins and pinning them down.

"There, there. I'll just cut you free. That sound good?" Deft hands lift the small blade and he can feel the bindings loosen then fall away. The man backs away and crouches, watching him like he's a wounded animal ready to fight or flee.

He pushes himself up, one hand numb and lifeless at his side. He shifts to sitting, grimacing in pain as fingers sink into sand, the coarse grains biting into his skin. He grabs his arm and starts to massage life back into it. He was in a small alcove made out of the remains of a ruined ship, wood splintered and torn by the rage of the sea. Debris fills the water, floating and bobbing where it can, even in the low tide. He glances at the thing that had trapped him, a large flat board with a knob and then he realizes: it was a cabin. He'd been trapped inside a cabin, tied with netting when the storm hit. He'd been drugged and lulled by the sea only to be torn apart and thrown onto this beach somewhere far away from home.

He recoils at the thought, eyes going back to the human who's watching him, eyes glinting in the dim light like the predator he is.

"Who are you?" He pulls himself up, ignoring the twinge of muscles slowly regaining circulation and he rolls onto his hip, tail splashing weakly in the few handfuls of water.

The man is taken aback, the surprise evident in his features as his eyes widen in surprise. He points at himself as though stupified by the question. "Me?" he asks, but then seems to realize how idiotic the question is and shakes his head. "Of course me." His teeth widen into a semblance of a smile. "Lance. My name is Lance. What's your name?"

The mer narrows his eyes and straightens again, watching the man down his nose, chin tilted up as he sniffs in distaste. "You can call me Lotor," he finally replies. "Lotor of the Sixth Sea. Now leave me be."

"Alright, Lotor of the sixth sea." The man, Lance, doesn't even give his title the proper intonation. "When you're ready to be helped out of your lovely wooden cage, just let me know! I'll be right over there." He points toward the glow of firelight out of sight, before standing and leisurely stretching, then making his way out. He did give Lotor a backwards glance which makes the mer preen a little internally. 

As soon as the man is out of sight, Lotor goes about assessing the damage. His hand is mostly okay, suffering a few cuts and bruises. He flexes each finger, then carefully goes over every muscle down his chest to his tail, which received the brunt of it. The netting is still wrapped around him in parts and he pulls and twists it off, leaving behind dark red grooves on his scales. His beautiful scales would scar for sure. He blinks back the sudden emotion and instead goes to free himself further. 

It takes him a while, his long tail wrapped tight in places and as he pulls at the netting, scales break and shatter causing small rivulets of blood to trickle down into the sand. His tail is long, the violet fading into dark purple and then black at the tips as he runs his fingers down, breath hitching as loose scales fall at his touch. He's in a small divot of water, not enough to sustain him. Not even close, so he'll have to wait for high tide before he can even attempt to flee. The man had been right in that regard; this was a wooden cage. Even with one side now completely open to the sky he had no hope of crawling free.

He slides down into what water there is. The tide should change soon. It must.

There's a chirp and a wicked ka-kaw. 

Lotor twitches awake, water splashing around him as his arm falls next to him where he'd been dozing in the sand. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and gives a weak cough as he pushes himself up and half out of the water. The jewels that had kept his hair out of his eyes had been stolen, so his long locks slap wetly against his face and shoulders. A painful pang in his gut reminds him that he hasn't eaten in days. His mouth is dry, even as the water laps against his waist. His wounds sting in the salt water as he attempts to move to higher ground with little success. Pieces of wood bumps into him and he doesn't have the energy to push them away.

Voices pierce his sluggish inner monologue of self-pity and he sways in place. "I'm really worried Hunk. He hasn't eaten in two days now! He refuses to take the fish I've given him and his wounds look infected…" The voice pulls away and another replies but Lotor has a hard time focusing. 

"Hey there, buddy." The voice is back and so is Lance, standing only a few feet away, worry painting his features. Lotor tries to bare his fangs but fails. Everything aches.

Lotor snaps his eyes open as he feels something wrap under his armpits. He hisses, the fear laced with pain causing him to lash out.

"Whooa, whoa there," a voice replies but the pressure ceases. Lotor shakes his head, trying to clear his sight. It's Lance again and the sun is up again. High tide. The wooden confines of his coffin is nearly half filled now. It's a lot but not nearly enough for him to make his way around.

Lotor turns his eyes back to Lance who's backed away, hands held up and palms exposed. There's another man behind him, half a shirt wrapped around his temples to ward off the heat of the sun. He speaks,"I told you it's hopeless. He's a wild animal. Leave him to his fate."

Lance whips around but his reply is lost as Lotor feels his momentary strength fade. There is a hand on his cheek and he looks up. He can feel tears well up in his eyes. This is it, the final reprieve from this world. "Hey," the soft voice calls him back from his thoughts.

"I'm going to try to lift you again, alright? I'll lift you to that carpet there." The man moves enough to expose a ragged piece of cloth. "And then we can pull you out of the wreckage, okay? Get you back into the sea proper."

Lotor frowns, but then nods. If they're going to kill and eat him they would have done so long before now, he surmised. The man goes to grab him under his armpits again, but this time Lotor is prepared. He tries to help the best he can and with some struggle they manage to haul him up onto the damp carpet.

"Can you grab your tail? Pull it up somehow?" the man asks. What was his name again? Lance, right? Lotor feels something touch the middle of his tail and he lashes out weakly, only to realize it was just Lance trying to help him. 

He pulls his tail close, like he'd done as a small guppy centuries ago. The lull of the movement of the carpet, makes him drift off once again. 

He opens his eyes as the harsh rays of the sun hit his face. It feels wonderful and he closes them again to soak in the warmth he hasn't felt in days.

"The cove?" A conversation is happening above him, the carpet now just a piece of cloth on the soft sand. He shifts, digging himself closer into the heat. The voices ebb and wane, and soon enough he is lifted again.

He feels himself sink into lukewarm water. His tail hits the bottom surprisingly fast, but his fins flare out as instincts take over. He opens his eyes as the carpet goes limp and floats with the soft current toward the back of the small rocky cove. He can just make out the wreck behind a bend and two humans stand above him, sweaty and shaking with exhaustion. The bigger one collapses onto the ground, panting and wiping his face with the cloth wrapped around his head.

"There should be fish in the cove," Lance pants, squatting down. "And if you're too weak to catch them yourself I can grab a few. The reef keeps this area pretty calm, but you should be able to swim back--where ever it is you came from. To the sixth sea."

The water is colder than Lotor is used to, the salt sinking into the cracks within his scales that had been jostled in the move. A healing pain.

He slips under the water, happy to finally be fully submerged. His eyes open and the world is filled with the familiar dancing, dappled rings of light. He tests out his weakened state, muscles protesting as he swims, but nothing seems to be broken. His back fin breaks the water before he dives for a silver backed fish, lost from its school. He devours it, utterly ravenous, ripping the flesh off with his teeth. It sates him somewhat, and he pulls up, lungs filling with air as he bobs on the other side of the cove from his rescuers.

"--at that!" Lance exclaims to the other sailor, his voice carrying easily over the soft ripple of waves. "Beautiful." He's holding his hand over his eyes as he looks out toward Lotor. He smiles; teeth sharp. Maybe he could stay awhile.

The fish are stupidly easy to catch in the cove and the days easily shift into each other. The shipwrecked sailors and the mermaid keep watch for the winds, hoping for their swift return. One day, as Lotor basks in the sunlit rocks, Lance approaches. "The winds are back and our lifeboat is stocked. Will you come show us the way back home?"

Who is Lotor to say no?

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://bluphacelia.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/blu_tweets). I post works in progress etc, but I'm more active on Twitter if you want to come say hello!


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